There's something with driving that I'm always hard pressed to define - when I do, it's always cliched, never being able to convey the meaning I want to. Everyday, I see the gorgeous orange lights curving their way across the wide empty toll road, and I can't help but wish I had a car to take to the road. A car not just to drive, not just to speed across the tarmac, or to hear the air rush by, but just to set me free. There it is again. I suppose I had to try.
I once drove as an escort for my cousin. She is a naturally fast driver, and she was in a hurry that day - I was only there because it was late and she had two small children with her. She drove really fast, but never in an attempt to lose me in traffic. I think that, given the choice, I'd never have been a fighter pilot - I'd choose to be the escort for a bomber, or some important plane that had to be protected. Like a lioness protecting her cubs: never the aggressor, but always defending staunchly. I followed her over the bridge that day, sometimes touching a hundred, never letting her white car out of sight. It was like there was only one object in the world, that white car speeding, in front, but not away, and it was all I had to look at - not traffic, not signals, not people or noises; what she did, I did.
When I was driving that day, zipping across the city as a questionable sort of escort - after all, what could I have done to protect anyone, even if something had happened - and constrained so severely that every choice was already made for me, I really did feel free.
I once drove as an escort for my cousin. She is a naturally fast driver, and she was in a hurry that day - I was only there because it was late and she had two small children with her. She drove really fast, but never in an attempt to lose me in traffic. I think that, given the choice, I'd never have been a fighter pilot - I'd choose to be the escort for a bomber, or some important plane that had to be protected. Like a lioness protecting her cubs: never the aggressor, but always defending staunchly. I followed her over the bridge that day, sometimes touching a hundred, never letting her white car out of sight. It was like there was only one object in the world, that white car speeding, in front, but not away, and it was all I had to look at - not traffic, not signals, not people or noises; what she did, I did.
When I was driving that day, zipping across the city as a questionable sort of escort - after all, what could I have done to protect anyone, even if something had happened - and constrained so severely that every choice was already made for me, I really did feel free.
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ps. thanks for the compliments! :) :p yeah, did anti-aliasing...quite fascinating. except that....do you know everything?! you're not even a cs major! :s